[From My Talk at the Holy Cross College Saints and Scholars Closing Banquet, July 16, 2026]

Think of some human experiences that make you rejoice, things that fill you with amazement and delight in a profound way. Every human being knows what it means to be captivated by something beautiful, something good, something true. These experiences are part of what it means to be human.

  • The initial stage of falling in love. You’re so excited that you cannot sleep. You gaze upon your beloved, and he or she takes your breath away. (A person.)
  • A song that, somehow, in a mysterious way, stirs your soul and becomes so meaningful that you play it over and over again. (A work of art.)
  • Finishing a project, such as a painting, a major cleaning effort, or decorating a room, that makes you want to keep returning to admire it. (An accomplishment.)

Notice what these experiences have in common. In each case, we return again and again to something that captivates us. We gaze upon it. We delight in it. We rejoice in it. We do this not just once. We return again and again and again.

Another Kind of Joy

I’d like to tell you about another kind of joy, one that I didn’t even know was possible until I was 24 years old. For me, this wasn’t simply a new experience of something familiar, like painting a room again or hearing another meaningful song. This was an entirely new experience altogether. I suspect that many people, perhaps even most people, never experience this kind of joy. Not because they lack intelligence. Not because they lack education. But because it requires something increasingly rare in modern life: sustained attention, disciplined effort, and a deep curiosity about reality. I’m talking about Intellectual Joy: the incredible, exhilarating, passionate joy that comes from seeing and comprehending an important truth for the very first time.

Perhaps you’ve experienced something similar. A professor explains an idea and suddenly everything clicks. A book unlocks a question you’ve carried for years. A conversation helps you see reality in a way you’ve never seen before. In those moments, the world expands, and you experience the thrill of understanding.

Despite being an “A” student for most of my life, a member of the National Honor Society in high school, and a graduate of a very competitive university, I never experienced this kind of joy until AFTER college, when I was in my early twenties. That was when I discovered something new: I began to read books. Books with chapters. Books without pictures. Books that didn’t rhyme. Philosophy books. Theology books. Fiction. Books on prayer. Books that analyzed broad cultural currents or human experiences. Books on how to succeed in business.

For the first time in my life, I spent significant time reading things that were not required for school. There were no tests, no deadlines, and no mandatory discussion groups. But there were ideas in those books, ideas that set my heart on fire. I would become so excited about a new idea that I would literally stay up half the night reading. I was fascinated by the notion that objective truth independent of what I think might actually exist, and I was profoundly gratified whenever a new insight opened itself to me. I could read endlessly without getting tired. If I could ever find someone interested in the same topics, we would have long and enjoyable conversations.

Examples of these Bursts of Joy

The first time I can remember this happening was while I was a seminarian in the Holy Cross novitiate in the Fall of 1991. At the time there was a lot of discussion about the Second Vatican Council and what it meant for the Church. A lot of what people were saying about Vatican II just didn’t sound right, so I set out to read all 16 documents and 30 or 40 post-conciliar documents to know for myself what was going on. I was STUNNED. Many things people were saying and doing that were being justified by “the spirit of Vatican II” were directly contrary to what the documents said. So much of what I read really made sense. It was very satisfying to discover the truth for myself. I couldn’t get enough of it.

A year later, this happened again while I was riding a Greyhound bus across America for sixty-five hours. At the recommendation of Fr. John Jenkins, CSC, my former philosophy professor at Notre Dame, I read Cardinal Newman’s Apologia Pro Vita Sua, his defense of the reasoning behind his conversion to Catholicism. I literally could not sleep on that bus as I read it. My heart felt as if it were on fire. Everything I thought I knew about Catholicism began to click and make sense in a way it never had before. It was then that I knew I was being called to teach. A year later, reading Pope John Paul II’s encyclical Veritatis Splendor produced a similar experience.

This was an important time in my life. I felt as though I was on a unique and privileged intellectual journey, as though around every corner there was another insight waiting to be discovered, understood, and embraced.

I came to realize something important. The purpose of the human mind is not merely to solve problems. It is not merely to acquire information. It is not merely to make things, achieve goals, or accomplish tasks.

The human mind was created to gaze upon truth and rejoice in it.

Today, however, we are often deadened by the distractions of our culture. We do not read such books. We do not cultivate the patience and persistence required for serious reading. We do not commit ourselves to the slow pursuit of truth. As a result, we are deprived of one of the highest forms of human joy: Intellectual Joy, which is unique and awesome in its own way.

For many years, I assumed that intellectual joy represented one of the highest joys available in this life. After all, it seemed only one notch beneath the joy of human love. Then, in 2021, something happened that took me one step further. As high as human love and intellectual joy may be, there is another joy that is even higher and more profound than both.

My Heart Attack & Near Death Experience Show Me Another Level of Joy

I’ve written previously about my heart attack in 2021 and corresponding near death experience. If you wish to read about this, click HERE.

You can see that this experience was even more profound than than any previous joy. Why?

Intellectual joy comes from encountering truth. A beautiful work of art allows us to experience the joy of beauty. An act of heroic love reveals goodness. Yet in my near death experience, these realities were not separate. Truth, goodness, and beauty appeared united in their source. This near-death experience was not merely about understanding something true. It involved an overwhelming awareness of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty together. It was as though every human longing was being fulfilled at once. It seems to defy description.

Gazing and Rejoicing

What if the joy of discovering a truth exists because every truth is a faint reflection of its Source?  In my near-death experience, I caught what felt like a glimpse of this reality: gazing upon God and rejoicing in Him, the source and embodiment of these three things. Thus we enter the highest form of prayer. It is called contemplation.

Intellectual joy comes from gazing upon a truth. Contemplative joy comes from encountering the Source of all truth, all goodness, and all beauty. Intellectual joy delights in a ray of light; contemplative joy delights in the sun itself.

Intellectual joy is real and wonderful. It is one of the highest joys available to us in this life. Yet every truth we discover, every act of goodness we witness, and every experience of beauty that moves our hearts ultimately points beyond itself to God.

Gazing and Rejoicing in God Himself is so awe-inspiring that it is indescribable. “Eye has not seen, and ear has not heard, and it has not entered the human heart what God has prepared for those who love Him” (1 Cor. 2:9). This is how Saint Paul quotes Isaiah in his First Letter to the Corinthians.

The Beatific Vision

The highest joy is union with God, what is sometimes called the Beatific Vision. This is gazing upon God, the one who is Perfection, the one who is Love. St. Paul is telling us that we possess another capacity for joy built into our very souls. This capacity longs for union with God and produces a joy unlike any other, a joy beyond all joys.

That is what I am here today to tell you.

“Our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee, O God.”
— St. Augustine

As children of God, we were created to live forever in joy, a kind of joy that we cannot even imagine right now. Yet it awaits those who love Him. This is what everlasting life is all about. Death, therefore, is not something to be feared. It is a transition into a new life. Jesus said, “You will grieve, but your grief will become joy” (Jn. 16:20).

So why should we fear death? This is precisely why Saint Paul can ask:

O death, where is thy sting?
O grave, where is thy victory?

There is no sting. Death has no victory.

WHY did Jesus come to earth, suffer, die and rise? Why does he forgive our sins and give us the Eucharist, the Bread of Life? In his very own words, he said:

“I came that you might have life and have it to the full.”

THIS is what He is talking about.

JOY.

When you fall in love, you want to gaze upon the beloved. When you discover a beautiful piece of music, you listen again and again. When you uncover a great truth, you return to it with delight. These experiences are not accidents. They are rehearsals. They are clues to what is to come. They are preparations for the ultimate joy: gazing upon God and rejoicing forever.

We are destined for JOY.

Until then, read books. 😉